


My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

by lizwas



Category: Gossip Girl (TV 2007)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s05e10 Riding in Town Cars With Boys, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I've been in my Dair feels and this happened, Mentions of car accident, Mentions of miscarriage, Missing Scene, baby's first fic post, hospital fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28158234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwas/pseuds/lizwas
Summary: She doesn’t want to be alone, desperately doesn’t want to be alone, but she can’t think of anyone that she actually wants in the room with her right now, except maybe—“Blair? Would you—could I come in?”
Relationships: Dan Humphrey/Blair Waldorf
Comments: 15
Kudos: 65





	My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

**Author's Note:**

> Quarantine + Dairpression= angst fic
> 
> Taylor Swift lyrics title bc I am Like That.
> 
> The show never let the characters deal with their trauma, and like did not address Blair's pregnancy after it ended so this had to come out of my brain and before I knew it, it was 1k+ words and I thought, "why not share it?"

Blair has no idea what time it is now, but she thinks it must be the middle of the night. Her hospital room (a private one, perks of being almost-royalty) is dark and quiet now, the bustling and murmuring of the doctors and nurses is over, and the remaining stillness is almost eerie. All Blair had wanted for the past few days was some peace and quiet, but this was certainly not what she’d had in mind. 

Serena had been with her when she woke and stayed by her side when the doctor delivered the news. She was only confirming what Blair already knew—she could feel the ache in her body, the absence in her where there once was _something_ —but it devastated her to hear it nonetheless. Serena held her hand through the first wave of tears and shock, and tried to soothe her, murmuring “it’ll be okay, B,” over and over until her sobs subsided.

Blair sent her away after that, asking for news about Chuck and her parents’ travel as an excuse, but that wasn’t really the reason Blair wanted to be left alone.

Serena had loved Blair through her lowest points, and had helped her through them with her trademark golden girl optimism. But in this low, Blair’s not sure she can stomach it. Serena’s eyes when she promised she’d come right back were full of sympathy and pity, but also a sort of expectancy—that Blair will heal and bounce back like she’s done a hundred times before through the sheer force of her Waldorf will. _You’re the stronger one of us, B_ , Serena had told her once.

The thing is, Blair does not feel all that resilient. Rather, she feels like a pane of glass, brittle as the windshield that broke in front of her; each blow she’s sustained over the last four years has made a network of spider-webbed cracks, and now, with this new loss, she feels on the brink of shattering. This is a heartbreak that S & B cannot share, and Blair does not have the strength, will, or ability to explain it to her.

And so, she’s lying in the dark alone, accompanied only by the beeps and whirs of the machinery that whisper over and over: _you don’t have a baby anymore._

She curls onto her side, facing away from the door and the taunting glow of the monitors.

She doesn’t want to be alone, desperately doesn’t want to be alone, but she can’t think of anyone that she actually wants in the room with her right now, except maybe—

“Blair? Would you—could I come in?”

She can’t find her voice to answer, so she nods, hoping Dan can see her movement in the low light of the room.

He must, because she can hear his footsteps as he comes in, and a faint rustle as he sits at her bedside. To his credit, he doesn’t ask how she’s doing, because he knows it’s a stupid question.

His voice is gentle when he finally says, “Blair, I’m so so sorry.”

She doesn’t answer. She can't. She is afraid that if she starts to talk, she’ll cry, and if she cries then she knows she won’t be able to stop.

“Listen, I know it’s nowhere close to what you’re going through but...when I lost Milo, everyone tried to get me to talk about it when I wasn’t ready to—so, you don’t have to say anything.”

She’s still turned on her side away from him, but she nods her head again. 

“But if you are ever ready: I’m here.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Apparently, she’s going to cry anyway. 

Dan takes her lack of response as a dismissal, “Anyway,” he clears his throat, “I’ll let you get some sleep,” he starts to rise from his chair.

“Wait,” she manages to say in a small voice. She still can’t make herself roll over to face him, but she reaches a hand out behind her, “sit with me for a minute?”

“Of course,” he answers softly. His warm hand on hers is the final straw. Blair shatters. She lets herself go, crying into the pillow. She feels his other hand come up to rub her back, gently, like he’s afraid she’ll break. _Too late_ , she thinks. 

She remembers something Serena had said over a year ago _Dan: good shoulder to cry on._ That had been before either of them knew about the Milo Sparks Debacle, but she wonders fleetingly if the way he’s soothing her now is some leftover paternal instinct, an old reflex from that summer when he was a teenage dad. Maybe you never stop being a parent once you’ve become one.

Only hours ago, _before_ , he had told her: _It wouldn’t to me._ She isn’t looking at him now, but she remembers the look on his face, wide open and honest, so earnest, like he was willing her to realize something. Not that any of it matters now. 

Dan stays next to her while the storm of her grief passes. She’s not sure how long it lasts; she just lets it run through her, clutching on to his hand like a tether. After what feels like hours, her breathing evens and slows, and she finally turns to look at him, red-eyed and exhausted. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” his voice sounds as raw as hers. His thumb strokes over her knuckles. He has that same look in his eyes that he did that afternoon, open and vulnerable and—something else. She’s too tired to figure out what. She yawns, finally worn out enough to sleep.

“Would you like me to stay?” he asks. He lifts his free hand towards her, but then lets it drop, like he’s thought the better of it.

For a moment she wants nothing more than to say yes, to make him stay and crawl up into this narrow bed and hold her while she sleeps, but she thinks the better of it too. Instead, she says, “No,” shaking her head lazily. Her eyes drift shut. “You should go home and shower, and change out of that shirt, and cut your hair while you’re at it.”

His soft surprised laugh is the last thing she hears.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic posting so please be gentle.


End file.
